such was for certain purposes a member of the High Court-and that his presence on the occasion was obligatory in the procession of judges. The Queen therefore gave way, and it was arranged that Mr. G. should appear in the procession in the line before the Lord Chancellor and after the other judges, in his robes as Chancellor of the Exchequer-and very grand he looked in them.

'Later, after the death of the great man when it was determined to erect his statue at the junction of Aldwych and the Strand in front of St. Clement Danes and within sight of the Law Courts, Mr. Thorneycroft asked me to go to his studio and see the model he proposed for the statue.

He depicted Mr. G. in modern costume with uplifted arms as though addressing a great public audience. I very much disliked it. The attire of the figure was violent and was wanting in dignity and repose. I reminded Thorneycroft of Mr. G.'s appearance at the opening of the Law Courts and how magnificent he looked in the robes of Chancellor of the Exchequer. I suggested that he should depict him as he appeared on that occasion. It would be the more appropriate as the statue would be in view of the Law Courts. I also suggested that the pose should be simple and dignified.

Thorneycroft adopted my suggestion and made a new model. The resulting statue is, I think, one of the best in London, and to me at least it is reminiscent of this occasion I refer to and of the Queen's objections to his being there.

"This may perhaps interest you.

'Yours very truly, EVERSLEY.

'The story you tell of Thomasson differs somewhat from one which I recollect.

'The speaker was Mr. Disraeli, and Thomasson seated himself next to him on the front Opposition Bench and held out his trumpet so as better to hear the speech.

'Disraeli was much annoyed, and when he sat down turned round to some friend on the Bench behind him and was reported to have said, "Why could not that man be satisfied with the disqualification which Providence has so happily endowed him with?" 4

'I perfectly well recollect Thomasson on more than one occasion seating himself on the front Opposition bench and using his trumpet to hear speakers through.

'My story however is not inconsistent with the fact that much the same observations may have occurred to you on some other

occasion.'

(To be continued.)

SPRAGGE'S CANYON.1

BY HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL.

CHAPTER XI.

WILBUR P. STOCKER COMES TO SPRAGGE'S CANYON.

I.

THAT night Samantha had a bad time. She found herself unable to sleep and unable to lie still. Love of George consumed her. She had fought against the overmastering passion desperately, but the sight of him collapsed on the rocks had been too much for her. The mere act of ministering to the stricken man rekindled all those darting flames which she had tried in vain to extinguish with tears and self-abasement. Each night and morning she had prayed:

O Lord God! Thy will be done! But don't let my George marry this pretty doll!'

She would repeat this a dozen times, like a dévote telling her beads.

Instinct told her that the pretty doll would become a terrible burden to her George. And when she beheld Hazel in his arms, when she saw him staggering down that perilous path, where one false step meant instant death, she would have changed places with the doll, even if the death penalty had to be exacted. And then for a few minutes she had been in heaven. Streams of delight flowed through her while she bathed that dear head and fanned air into his lungs. When he opened his eyes they had rested for an instant kindly upon her, when he opened his lips he had thanked her!

Was she predestined to go down to her grave with this sweet memory, and nothing more?

Would life be worth living without George?

Unlike Hazel, who was afraid of her emotions, Samantha was not ashamed of wanting the husband of her choice, but she was ashamed of wanting the property of another woman. It seemed

1 Copyright, 1914, by H. A. Vachell, in the United States of America.

perfectly natural that she should love George, and unnatural that her love should not be returned, because Hazel-so she decided -was unworthy. From the first she had thought: She don't love him as I do, why should she have him?' The inhumanity of a disastrous marriage made her wild.

She knew, moreover, that other interests engrossed Hazel, ambitions which she, the country girl, could hardly understand. Hazel had prattled to her of society, of triumphs in ballrooms and at receptions, of homage paid by other men, of envy aroused in other women. She had spoken also, quite sincerely, of what could be accomplished by American women, of their duties and responsibilities as citizens of the greatest republic in the world. She had even attempted to explain what 'feminism' meant, and the revolt of Woman! Samantha had listened politely, impressed by Hazel's cleverness, astonished at her flow of words, but unconvinced by her arguments, and utterly unable to perceive her point of view. Dimly, however, she had apprehended that Hazel desired many things, whereas she herself desired only one.

She got out of bed and knelt down.

'O Lord God! Thy will be done! But don't let my George marry Hazel Goodrich, if it's all the same to You!'

Repeating this again and again, she felt easier in mind. Rising from her knees, she sat by the open window allowing the cool breeze to play upon her feverish body. She noticed that the moon was nearly at the full, and she wondered whether George would kill a fat buck. This was the third night in succession that he had waited for hours in the hope of gratifying Hazel's wish to taste venison. George must indeed be passionately in love when he thus sacrificed his sleep.

Samantha muttered to herself:

'He's jest the same dose I hev.' She went back to bed.

In the next room, Hazel also was lying awake. She had heard George leave the house; she had seen him standing outside in the moonlight with a rifle in his hand; and, so seeing him, the awful suspicion that her lover might be a robber of stage-coaches assailed her with increased virulence. It ought to have occurred to her that the only stage in those parts was driven by Uncle Zed, who carried, as a rule, nothing much more valuable than butter and eggs. A country girl would have guessed at once that George was after deer. Hazel, to do her justice, felt ashamed of her suspicions,

but they kept her wide awake none the less, putting a keener edge upon her determination to transplant George. She, also, kept on repeating to herself: 'I hate this Canyon; I hate those Bungards and Geldenheimers; I could never spend my life here; I am utterly unlike Mrs. Spragge and Samantha.'

And yet she wanted George, wanted him more than ever. Even if she hardly dared put her thoughts into words-even if he were engaged in some nefarious traffic, what a joy, what a privilege it would be to touch him to finer issues, to help him grow to his full stature. She had a glorified vision of George playing Darby to her Joan, thanking her with tears in his eyes because she had raised him to her heights. Every fibre thrilled at the thought. And the world of Oakland, ay, the larger world across the Bay, perhaps the whole continent, would know that this had been her life's work; that a Daughter of the Golden West had justified her existence consummately.

She remained awake for some hours, because she was intensely excited. Life seemed the better worth living because she had glimpsed death.

Before she went to sleep she passed in blissful review those minutes upon the pinnacle. If George had kissed her! As she fell asleep, she murmured to herself:

'I do love him.'

II.

Two days later Hazel was helping George in the berry-patch. Small sections of this were irrigated twice a week, because the water available for such a purpose had to be taken from the creek much higher up the Canyon, where the stream during the dry season became a tiny rivulet. Twice a week in July it was just possible to collect enough water to irrigate a quarter of an acre of berries.

It was easy and pleasant work.

George vigorously wielded a spade, rapidly making miniature banks of earth. Hazel, hoe in hand, diverted the water from one banked-up square to another, knocking down a tiny wall and so forming a channel for the precious percolating fluid which the warm dry soil absorbed greedily. The morning was very hot, but Hazel could slake her thirst with ripe berries and dip burning hands into the cool water.

'Father made one mistake,' said George.

Only one?'

'He'd oughter hev built the house lower down the Canyon. Then we'd hev had a plenty o' water, because the creek flows good an' strong past the house.'

'That's where you want it, isn't it?'

George laughed. Hazel's remarks concerning all matters connected with the practical running of the ranch betrayed an astonishing ignorance and inexperience. For example, she had asked Samantha why the two cows were milked at regular hours. Why not slip out with a pail and get what milk you needed at any odd hour?

George explained.

'The creek here is five feet below the level of the ground we hev ter irrigate. See? The water could be taken out with a motor engine there's not enough force or fall fer a ram-an' mebbe some day I'll buy me one, but as things air we hev to depend on our dam, two hundred yards up the Canyon.'

I understand perfectly.'

'By Gum!' exclaimed George. 'It's fun workin' with you, because you do catch on mighty quick.'

Tell me some more about berry-raising.'

'It's easy to raise 'em. Pickin' and marketin' ain't so easy.' He continued leisurely, talking as he worked, never wasting a minute nor one drop of water. Twice a week during the early spring and once a fortnight during the summer he took a light load of berries to Aguila, which he sold to Adolf Geldenheimer. Adolf bought honey and butter, also eggs, apples, and poultry, crediting George's account with divers small sums. In his turn Adolf sold to George seed-barley, groceries, and dry-goods. At the end of the year the accounts generally balanced each other. Hazel remarked shrewdly:

'Mr. Geldenheimer makes a double profit.' George had to admit this.

'Saves us a heap o' trouble,' he remarked.

else is clear gain, dollars to be invested.'

'And everything

'Everything else includes cattle and horses and hogs?' Yes-everything lawful and unlawful.'

'Unlawful?'

'I sell venison as mutton, or goat. I'm well fixed, money to burn, but I don't burn it.'

'What do you do with it?